The Strong Never Cry
by Universe
Summary: Piccolo's illness and death from Vegeta's POV.(Another viginette from Live)


The song is I May Not Awaken, by Enya.

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The Strong Never Cry

Hmph. Listen to those weaklings getting all upset over Piccolo being sick. They all stare at him like he's got the Plague or something, and I could sit there and laugh for hours.

"He doesn't look sick!" I comment after Piccolo prepares to leave with Kakarott's brat. I prepare to go inside for a bitch session with Bulma and to take a shower, but Krillin decides to say something to me.

"Well, not yet anyway…"

"Shut up, Cue-Ball head! I wasn't talking to you!" I growl, watching Piccolo and Kakarott's brat fly away.

I'm not kidding either; that Namek has only shown weakness once as long as I've known him. Of course, I'm speaking of the time he foolishly jumped in front of Nappa's blast to protect the Brat. Who would have thought he would be so foolish as to protect a weakling child.

…Well…Kakarott's brat isn't really a weakling, but I'll surpass him eventually!

It's been a few months since I last saw Piccolo. 

Now that foolish Woman has me standing out in the front yard, waiting for the Namek to show up so I can divert him from some foolish surprise Birthday party. I have much better things to be doing right now, but everyone is whining and I don't want to listen to it.

Ah, here comes Piccolo now. He has Kakarott's brat, Kakarott's wife and…a child. It must be his son, the resemblance is unmistakable. They all land and I notice something odd…Piccolo is out of breath. Why would he be out of breath from simply flying?

Could he really be ill?

Anyway, I make some snide comment to Piccolo when he shows up. Hey, if I couldn't piss Kakarott off, I might as well go for the hothead Namek. Even still, I can't ignore what I have just seen.

"So it's true…feh. Bulma has some…" I almost say 'foolish party', but remember what I was supposed to say. It's so ridiculous that I want to just get it over with! "…foolish training equipment she insists on bothering me to show you, so follow me."

I wait until Piccolo is nearly at the door before I phase behind him and shove him in. There, it's done, and I think I'll get out of here for awhile. I must say…Earthling singing is pathetic!

After the singing is over with, I just hang out by myself while the others make fools of themselves around Piccolo's brat. Why must people coddle babies around here? They should know the most important thing for a child to learn is how to protect itself. I mean, come on! A Saiyajin newborn can growl at a stranger within a half-hour after birth!

There's Piccolo again, alone, but something isn't right about him. He just swallowed a pill…since when did he start popping pills?  
  
"So, you've resorted to popping pills, eh?" I snicker, glad he can't see my face at the moment. I really don't know what expression I'm wearing right now.

Piccolo glares at me with a frown and replies with, "Stay out of my business, Vegeta."

Aha! So this is the button I need to push when I want to piss him off.

"What are you going to do if I don't?" I watch his expression grow even more angry and laugh a little, "I guess you can't stand to have people seeing you weak."

Seeming to double in height, Piccolo's face contorts as he bares his menacing teeth at me and points an accusing finger at my face, "Listen…here…you…" His voice suddenly chokes off as he succumbs to what I assume to be pain.

While I watch, the Namek staggers forward on the brink of blacking out, but I know he's stronger than that. He grabs the wall and sways like a flag in a breeze as his pain buffets him. My God, it's true! He…he really is sick! Look at him…in agony. Still, even while experiencing this pain, Piccolo manages to keep most of his imposing presence.

Piccolo is a powerful fighter, like me. He is much different from those other weaklings. I think he even has something I don't, but I can't put my finger on it at the moment. And I couldn't just let him stand there like that where the other weaklings would find him!

Walking over, I sling Piccolo's arm over my shoulders and walk him outside, then leave him by a tree and head off a few feet to give him privacy. I can hear him breathing hard as he fights his agony. 

He…he really is dying. I can't believe it! A strong warrior like that being beaten down by a microscopic thing seems completely insane! But…it's really happening. It could just as easily have been me instead of him. No, I am the Prince of all Saiyajins! I am stronger than a stupid illness!

Yeah, dream on, Vegeta. Kakarott almost died from a stupid disease. He can't seen to die right, can he? He had to live longer just so he could die saving this crappy little planet from Cell.

A noble sacrifice…I don't think I could bring myself to give my own life for anyone or anything. I couldn't do it for my own son…

But if Kakarott is dead and Piccolo is dying now, then who will be struck down next?

And speaking of sons, why would Piccolo have a kid if he won't be around to teach it properly? I suppose I might as well ask.

"Tell me something, Namek…"

Piccolo, who is still sweating profusely as he rests against the tree, still manages to growl at me and asks, "Now what do you want?" His voice is shaking…is it pain, or anger?

"Why did you have a child if you won't be around to raise it? It makes no sense!" I laugh a bit as I speak down to him like he's just another servant. Hey, I can't look too shocked now, can I?

Piccolo straightens and crosses his arms, executing a simple shrug to flip his white cape over his shoulder. He glares at me with eyes as black as a Saiyajin's and replies smoothly, "There are many reasons, Vegeta."

I turn my back to him so he won't see the expression leave my face all over again. "Name one."

The Namek sighs in annoyance at me and replies, "To leave a legacy and to lessen the pain Gohan is going to feel when I pass. There, happy?"

There's nothing I can say to that, because once again, his simple words have shut me up. Not that I'd tell _him_ that though. I find it unbelievable that Piccolo still thinks of Kakarott's brat so fondly. Those emotions are so…so…weak!

Piccolo brushes past me and goes inside to get his child from Cue-Ball head. I peer at him through the window and find myself staring in shock at the way he treats the child so gently. He's even talking to it quietly, but I can only pick up bits and pieces of what he's saying. What's this? He's pouring his heart out to the child!

"…I love you, my son…" I hear Piccolo say to the child. Never in my life have I ever heard that Namek say those words…never in my life have I myself ever said them to anyone.

No, I won't be weak!

Here comes ChiChi. Great, I do NOT want to listen to her bitching at me, so I leave with my mind full of thoughts.

If Piccolo really is going to die soon, then I'm sure his son would like to at least have something to remember his father with. I hardly remember my own father, save for the lessons he taught me when I was little. My wandering eyes fall upon several news articles about the World Martial Arts Tournaments that used to take place. When I open them, I can see many images of Piccolo. Good. I look up and spot a black book with nothing in it that obviously isn't being used. OK…this is easy.

I get to work and force my own patience to its limit as I rip Piccolo's images out of the articles and adhere them to the pages. It takes me almost a half an hour to get every tournament image I can find before I slam the book shut, shove the papers I just tore up back where I found them and wrap the book in construction paper.  
  
I don't know why I'm doing this for such a petty reason…I suppose I just owe it to him for proving himself a worthy opponent.

Ten minutes later, I'm standing off to the side and watching the foolish ritual known as opening gifts. Bah, it's totally moronic. Why do people wrap something in paper that is only going to be ripped up later? Saiyajins have to fight for their gifts when they were children.

Piccolo is opening my gift. I'm pretty sure he knows who it's from, but I look away anyway.

Now the foolish weaklings want to take a foolish photograph. Good God, don't they have anything better to do than bother me? At least Piccolo and I are in the same boat with this one.

This party is over, as far as I'm concerned. I'm going to go train.

Well, well, well, I just sat through the tournament that those fools were yapping about for months. I think I'm actually impressed, especially with the way Piccolo and Gohan fought. They gave it their best and I was surprised when the fight ended in a draw. I really am.

There is a foolish ceremony going on that has something to do with awards for everyone who participated. I can't help but notice that Piccolo isn't moving at all. I'm too far away to see his facial expression, but I can definitely tell he's swaying on his feet like a tree ready to fall.

It happens so suddenly. The trophy in Piccolo's hand slips free and drops to the ground with a clang that rings throughout the arena. The Namek's whole body gives a brief twitch, then topples forward to land with a thud on the stage.

Everyone has fallen silent by now, including me. Is he dead right there?

__

When the warmth of the day becomes the night  
Who could sleep beneath a strange moonlight?

Here comes a stretcher now. It takes three normal humans to get Piccolo into the ambulance, but they manage, and the ambulance drives away. Hmph. I'll beat them to the hospital easily.   
  
I arrive at the hospital just a few minutes before the ambulance; I watch as they rush Piccolo inside and take him to a room. So I move around to a window and peek inside to see if I can get a look at him now.

He's coming around, and he's not happy! How on Earth could he still be alive!? This is madness! 

I can't take this anymore! I'm leaving.

I recently found out recently that Piccolo has been staying at the Son residence. How he is STILL alive is beyond me, but I might as well go see how bad he looks now since he looked awful the last time I saw him.

Since the front door to the house is open when I arrive, I just let myself in and wait by the only closed door in the place. While standing there, I can see Kakarott's brat sitting on the couch with Piccolo's brat. The little green bean sure looks like his father, I must admit.  
  
_No guiding star  
So far from home _  
  
I'm getting impatient, so I knock on the door and Kakarott's woman is the one that answers. She looks a little surprised to see me, but I can barely hide the shock I feel when my eyes fall upon Piccolo.

Piccolo is lying in a bed exactly like the ones in the hospital. His body has been totally ravaged by the illness. He is extremely thin, enough so that I can almost count his ribs, and I don't think he even has the strength to leave the bed he's lying in. Still as black as ever, his eyes no longer have their menacing gleam. His lips are cracked and withered, and his hands seem to be little more than skin over bone.

I hate to admit this, but seeing the Namek like that frightens me.

Why can't he just die?

"What do you want, Vegeta? Can't you see I'm busy?" Piccolo manages to whisper. Well, at least he's still partly himself. The fool looks like he's ready to croak right now.

"Too bad." I snicker at him, "I came to see if you were dead yet. You look like shit, Namek." That's the truth, too.

"Better than what you look like." He remarks, then pauses for a moment as if the very act of breathing was difficult. "Arrogant monkey."

I start to laugh at the comment despite myself, "Foolish green bean." 

Unbelievable, the way he can still manage to be such an ass even while he's dying. Piccolo is laughing with me, probably for the same reason. But as I go serious again, I realize this is most likely the last time I'll see him alive. If I'm ever going to get my goodbye out, I'm going to have to put aside my pride.

"I didn't come here to trade insults with you, Namek. I came to say goodbye." That got his attention real quick, and he made another quick remark to ask why I'd bother. So I continue by telling him why I came. "Respect." Then I explained what he'd done to earn it. Damn, this is difficult to do! I'm not acclimated to speaking my mind or my emotions to others. A Saiyajin's mind is a very secret thing.

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Walked the way o' promise to find but snow  
Throughout, the voice of the winds brings nothing more  
Than low echoes  
So far from home

Piccolo has done the one thing I've never been able to do: He's killed Kakarott. True, the fool was wished back later, but still…I haven't even been able to do that much.

Before I realize what I have done, I'm standing next to Piccolo's bed with my fist clenched around one of the metal bedrails. The metal feels cold to my skin, and I wonder for a moment what it must feel like to be trapped in a dying body. I've died once before, but I don't remember a thing about it.

Something cool, dry and papery comes to rest on the back of my hand. I look down and realize it's Piccolo's skeletal hand. The skin doesn't even feel like skin anymore…it feels just as cold as the bed-rail against my palm. Cold as death.

"Believe it or not, I didn't feel any better when I killed Goku. In fact, I felt respect for him because he chose to die for his planet. Just like I chose to die for Gohan."

The sentimental words make my stomach churn. I have to get out of here, before I say something completely and utterly weak.

"I respected Kakarott too…but…" I get an idea…won't the Namek run into Kakarott on the other side? It's a foolish thought, but what the hell? Might as well get myself another last laugh. Pointing my finger at Piccolo, I sneer, "If you see him after you die, tell him I'll still find a way to beat the hell out of him when I get there. Got it?"

Piccolo's withered lips pull into a smirk, "Not a problem…"  
  
I turn my back to the Namek and prepare to leave, but first I've got to get one last asinine remark in, "Oh, by the way…your brat is as ugly as you. Take care." Then I start to walk out.  
  
"I guess Trunks is lucky then." Piccolo manages to get out before I can get away.

That was a good one, and I can't help but laugh. Perhaps, just this once, I'll let him have the last word. Smirking at the thought, I leave the Son residence and don't look back 

Two days go by, and I've done nothing but train during that time. I'm taking a break for now, sitting in the kitchen with a glass of water and a sandwich. Bulma, Yamcha, Trunks, Tien and Krillin have all left to go visit with Piccolo. The Namek hasn't been conscious for the past few days, as far as I know.  
  
I can't get the last image of Piccolo out of my mind. He looked so weak, yet so noble at the same time. As much as I hate to admit it, I hope his passing comes easily without strain or agony.

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Even from a child  
A wish is not enough  
For me, for me the sky may fall

All of a sudden, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up for no reason, and I swear that I hear Piccolo snickering at me somewhere. Then all is silent and I give blame to my own thoughts as I take another bite out of my ham sandwich.

The phone rings right as I finish my food. I usually ignore that annoying human appliance, but because it wouldn't stop ringing, I realized it was probably the Woman calling me. She knows I hate answering the phone.

Snatching the phone off the hook, I snarl, "What is it, Woman?"

It's definitely Bulma…but instead of a snide remark, I can hear her crying on the other end. "Vegeta…"

"What are you blubbering about, Woman?" I growl, not in the mood to listen to her crap.

"Piccolo just died, Vegeta."

I feel my heart skip a beat, and I have to sit back down at the table. I had known it was coming, but I never expected to find myself feeling strange afterwards. I mean…I really don't know what to feel. It takes me several minutes before I can even remember to speak.

"So," I feign a snicker, "Did he die screaming in pain?"

"No," Bulma sniffles, "I think he was unconscious when it happened. Gohan, ChiChi and Doramu were in there with him."

"Hmph. Fine." I hang the phone up before that Woman can say anything else to me.

I can't believe this…he really is gone. His son is fatherless…just like me. This knowledge makes me realize that I should be around my own son more than I am. I mean…anything could happen, and no child deserves to live without a father.

Slamming my glass down, I push out of the chair and head upstairs to where Trunks is. That brat looks pretty ugly right now with those fat arms and legs and that hideous purple hair. But when I look down into his clear blue eyes, I can see the same look that Doramu was giving to Piccolo.

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And even from a child  
A dream is not enough  
Could be, could be the sky may fall  
Could be, could be the night ends all

"I guess you'll grow out of his hideous looking stage sometime." I mutter as I reach down and lift the child out of his crib to hold him. Then I sit down on the floor with him on my knee and just watch what he does. When Trunks proceeds to pick up his rattle, I reach down and take it away from him. If he wants it, he'll have to fight for it.

Trunks stares at me cross-eyed for a moment, then grabs the rattle and tries to pull it away from my hand.

"Good, very good. Prove how strong you are right now! If you're going to be a super Saiyajin then you had better start preparing to train." I growl. So Trunks grabs the rattle and hits me in the face with it. Hard. I see stars for several seconds before touching my face and finding blood on my hand. The brat just made me bleed!

Yes, that's it…my son. Being a father isn't so bad after all.

Trunks points and giggles at me, and I stare down at his face as he sleeps. He may be kinda ugly right now, but he also looks so…so…innocent. Something strange happens within me as I watch him sleep, and I hear myself utter a simple sentence.

"Son…I…I think I love you…"

There…I've said it.

And I mean it.

Everyone has moved away from the area, but I don't approach until I'm sure nobody will see me here. When I'm sure it's safe, I slowly approach the casket and peer down at the Namek. 

Piccolo is dressed in his usual attire, cape and all. He looks almost regal, the way his head is ever-so-slightly tipped back on the cushion. His thin hands are folded one on top of the other on his navy-blue belt; believe it or not, the way he's laying now is the exact way he was laying the last time I saw him alive. Kinda eerie, if you ask me.

Aside from looking thin as a rail, he looks pretty much like he did in life. Calm. Collected. Ready for anything. 

In spite of myself, I lower my hand near his face to feel for any breath, then pull back while feeling pretty stupid. He really is gone…I just can't bring myself to believe it. I can picture him dying a violent death in a massive fight for the planet, but I can't picture the rise and fall of his chest coming to a halt while his friends watch over him.

I'll never have a death like his. I've always known that I'll die alone.

__

No rains could weep as I have wept  
To know a simple dream will not be kept  
I am a child  
So far from home  
  
"Don't expect any pity from me, Namek. I know you're probably getting sick of seeing those other weaklings cry over you. Maybe you wanted it that way, but you won't get me to cry. I refuse! I completely refuse to let myself act like those other weaklings." I curl my lip slightly and feel a slight ache in my throat. Probably just the dry Earth air, most likely. "Enjoy whatever afterlife you're having, Piccolo. Don't forget to pass my message on to Kakarott. Hmph." 

There. I've said enough, and give one last glance to the dead Namek before I turn my back and walk away with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my black trench coat.

Goodbye, Piccolo.

The dry biting wind blows in my face, and a tear manages to escape my eye. It's just the wind, really. The strong never cry…

__

One by one the sky falls  
I may not awaken…


End file.
